Rival Reprisal
by Immersturm
Summary: The Scourge of Endymion has always been a threat to civilization, but a recent development might tip the scales of power in their favor. A desperate alliance is forged, and an unlikely team sets out to save the galaxy.
1. Prologue

When Zhin awoke, she found that her immediate reaction (to lash out and kill with her taloned hands) was hampered by the restraints that bound her to the table. The two scientists, a pair of bespeckled avians of drab plumage, immediately recoiled.

"She's awake... She's awake!"

"Call the Precentor! Tell him we've found his prize."

Zhin reeled. The lights shining on her from on high seemed so bright, yet so far away. Questions like "Where am I?" and "What happened to me?" and "Where did you weak-kneed bastards put my stars-damned uniform?" all flooded her mind. When the restraints were removed and the heavily-armored security guards began taking her through a maze of corridors, she couldn't even muster the energy to resist. She found herself sitting in a rather plain-looking room, sitting in a plain-looking chair at a plain-looking table across from a not-quite-plain-looking figure, whose golden robes were a tremendous contrast to her own meager medical smock.

"Agent Seventeenth-Class Zhin Juzek. Welcome. Do you know who I am?"

Zhin had to blink several times in disbelief. She knew who he was. Everyone in the Golden Order knew who he was. "Grand Precentor Turul?"

The figure bowed his head in assent. His feathers, while colorful, weren't as bright as the media streams had Zhin believe.

"While I hate to be the bearer of terrible news, I regret to inform you that you are, as of this moment, dead. Your wife and hatchlings have been informed that you were slain in combat, and they shall receive ample compensation for their loss-"

"Beg pardon, sir?"

Turul paused. "Is something amiss?"

Zhin looked down at her hands, then back to the Grand Precentor. "I'm not dead."

"You are now. Your ship and your crew were shot down in low orbit over Endymion during your original espionage assignment. Everyone aboard was slain. You, obviously, are the sole survivor, but in an official sense, you are quite deceased and your body was irrecoverable. It burned up on reentry."

Zhin clenched and unclenched her hands.

The Precentor arose from his chair, strode the length of the room, and knelt beside her. It was then that she noticed: it wasn't that his colors were duller. This was a leader, a mere mortal man, who was unimaginably tired. "I am truly sorry. I would offer a more fitting reward for a soldier such as yourself, so decorated and loyal. But there is a mission of grave importance, and it requires both your expertise and the utmost secrecy." He put a hand on Zhin's arm. "We need _you_, Agent."

Zhin looked from the Precentor to the blank walls of the room and back again. "What mission could be so important that you'd need to lie to my family about my fate?"

The Grand Precentor arose and tapped a corner on his side of the table. In the center of the table arose a hologram, displaying a planetoid with a crater so massive it appeared as though a giant had taken a savage bite out of it.

"The Scourge of Endymion has long been a menace to all life in the galaxy. When we forged our alliance with the other willing civilizations of the universe, our friends in the Galactic Cnidion Consensus warned us that, after a certain point, the Scourge would grow or develop too far to be stopped, even by a combined effort of all our empires. We have reason to believe that such a turning point is upon us."

The hologram's display rocketed from the planet to the surface, then below the surface. Bizarre tunnels and tubes, all converging in a single pit, were clearly visible.

"Our sources tell us that the Scourge has created a bio-forge of some sort, able to reprogram organic matter into whatever they wish, located too far below the surface of Endymion for us to destroy with conventional bombing. There are limitations to the process, but we theorize that this could be exactly the edge that the Scourge needs to begin a massive, unchecked expansion."

Zhin nodded, her Agent's mind reflexively analyzing the structure for weaknesses and possible entry points. "Understood, but this doesn't explain why my faked death was necessary."

The Grand Precentor winced, then sighed. "We… we don't know how long they've had access to this forge. It's possible they've had developed it days, perhaps months ago. We're already seeing new strains of Scourge being developed, specialists that shouldn't be possible outside of simple breeding. Some of them have even begun exhibiting psionic abilities."

Zhin leaned back in her chair. "If they can read minds, they'd see us coming before we could even launch into orbit."

"Exactly. This is why we needed to limit knowledge of your mission to a select few individuals. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate Endymion with your team, find the bio-forge, destroy it, and find a way to prevent the Scourge from rebuilding it."

Zhin tapped her beak with one taloned finger. "Tell me more about this team I'd be working with."

The hologram on the table shut off, and the entire wall on Zhin's right side divided into four sections, with each displaying a different recording of a different figure.

"To ensure security, no two agents hail from the same faction; should the Scourge discover the mission's existence, they will only see a small part of the overall plan."

The Grand Precentor gestured for Zhin to rise, and she did so, moving to the first display, which displayed a bizarre, faceless molluscoid. They resembled a balloon with a series of prehensile tendrils dangling below it, each wielding a surgical tool. In the recording, they appeared to be performing a live dissection on a still-thrashing creature, one which Zhin recognized as one of the insect-like Scourge.

"Autonomous Drone E45, or just E45 as we've been calling them, is a part of the Lonay Organism. While not particularly adapted for combat, they are an extremely capable biologist who has led the way in terms of identifying and exploiting various weaknesses that the Scourge possess."

Zhin furrowed her brow. "I thought the Lonay were a hive mind - you're talking about this one as if they were an individual."

Turul nodded. "I also thought as much. It would seem that while the Lonay Organism acts as a collective consciousness, specialists within their framework retain a level of individuality. The Mind, the gestalt center of the Lonay, has assured me that E45 is one of the brightest that the Lonay has to offer, although certain mission details had to be kept from both of them to prevent possible psionic espionage."

The Grand Precentor moved to the next display, which showed a blue, membranous slug leaning forward in a chair outfitted with multiple anti-gravity devices. Purple fire flared from his head and antennae, incinerating a trio of onscreen Scourge.

"The Galactic Cnidion Consensus has awarded Ektrall Hull several honors for his outstanding work in several scientific fields. That being said, the psiocractic sectors of the Consensus are most proud of his work in weaponizing their species' latent talents as a defense mechanism against the Scourge."

Zhin's beak fell slightly open. "Huh. All this time I thought the psionic theory was just a lot of crock."

Turul shrugged. "Telepathy, telekinesis, telepryomancy… it would seem that Scientist Hull has gone beyond what the theory had previously suggested possible. The First Speaker has the utmost faith in him and his prowess, and by extension, so do I."

The third display struggled to maintain focus, probably due to what appeared to be a large crack in the corner of the screen; the wall was solid, but the recording device had been clearly damaged. Still, Zhin was able to make out among the fires and the arcs of blackened blood a titanic reptilian resembling a snapping turtle with a massive, bladed mace. Zhin watched as the being crushed one of the Scourge, red lightning arcing off his weapon.

"Master Sergeant Hori Karaka of the Hydrari Stellar Confederacy. I believe the footage speaks for itself."

Zhin flinched as the footage showed Hori punching through a Scourge abdomen with his mace and showering the recording device with gore before raising a soaked fist in triumph. "I don't question the choice, but I do question his stability."

"The Hydrari are a warrior people, first and foremost, and Hori's family was recently slain by a Scourge virus bomb. His stability may be questionable, but his commitment to the mission is not." The Precentor sighed. "He was not my first choice either, but the Shell Council's traditions made him theirs. He will serve you well as a frontline soldier."

The fourth and final display was a mugshot. Holding the placard in its root-like appendage was a blobby fungoid in an armored collar, one of its four eyes clearly useless given the deep gash upon it. The plate flashed between several different languages, but Zhin knew all of them said the same thing: "Underboss Soghad, scion of Drostoa."

Zhin paused, pointing a finger at the display. "That's one of the Smogskraw Cartel."

The Precentor looked as if he were to speak, paused, and then began again. "Yes. It is."

Zhin scoffed and folded her arms. "I didn't know we were that desperate."

"Actually, the Cartel came to us. After all, it is their universe the Scourge threatens, too."

"Okay, so they're desperate, too. What's it good for?"

"In exchange for a full pardon, Soghad has agreed to lend his mechanical skills to your mission. You will find no better engineer or hacker this side of the galaxy."

Zhin raised an eyebrow and clicked her beak. "A full pardon for what?"

"Soghad was both the Cartel's Underboss and the only recognized scion of Underlord Drostoa. If you imagine the crime, there is a good chance it has committed it at some point."

As if on cue, Soghad revealed a mouth with rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth and lunged forward before being stunned by an electrical charge through its collar.

The displays shut off. All that was left was the Agent and the Grand Precentor.

"Zhin, I cannot force you to accept this mission. Even as your Grand Precentor, I cannot and will not demand that you act. If you so choose, you will be free to walk out of this facility; I doubt my guards, even with all their training, could properly hold back a Seventeenth-Class Agent of the Golden Order. You would be free to return to your family, and they would continue to receive recompense for the emotional pain I have put them through. But understand that if that is the path you choose, the Scourge will continue to perfect their bio-forge, and people will die. The Consensus, the Confederacy, yes, even the Golden Order will eventually fall before the onset of the Scourge's abominations. And so it is with a heavy heart that I must ask: will you accept this mission?"

Zhin put a hand to her chin. She turned from the Precentor and walked to the other side of the room. She stood there for what felt like a long time.

"I have one condition."

The Precentor took a step towards her. "Name it, and if it is within my power to give, it shall be yours."

She turned back to the Precentor. "When the mission is done, I go back to my family."

The Precentor offered a hand. "Done. Their compensation - and your own - will be doubled as well, for as long as you live, should you succeed."

Zhin shook the Precentor's hand.

"Do us proud, Agent."

At that moment the holographic shell that resembled the Grand Precentor shimmered and winked out, revealing the android beneath that sent a potent electrical charge into Zhin through her hand. As she once again faded into unconsciousness, she cursed herself for not catching the deception sooner.


	2. 1 - A Father's Mercy

Half of the world was sleeping when the bombs dropped.

It was pure chance that they were chosen, and such a condition made them easy targets, if only for a moment. When the moment passed, night turned to a bloody red day as the full might of the Hydrari Stellar Confederacy aligned itself against the invaders, lighting the sky with its explosive ordinance.

Master Sergeant Hori Karaka awoke to the alarms; he was always a light sleeper, and he was ready, activating his bunker's emergency heater to stir his soldiers from their cold-blooded stupor and donning his own heavy armor.

As Hori donned his face mask, one such soldier burst into his room, half-armored and pulse-rifle unloaded. "Sir, it's chaos out there! What're your orders?!"

Hori snorted. "Rookie, I'm gonna tell you this once: get your sorry shell back to the armory and prepare properly. And on your way, tell the rest of the squad to assemble. You'll be joining us when you're ready, and not before!"

The young recruit stomped once and dashed off.

Hori lumbered through the bunker, his hand-picked soldiers falling into lock-step behind him. "Listen up, soft-scales! We got a job to do and there ain't a lot of time to do it! We knew this day was gonna come eventually, and you'd better be damn sure we're ready for it!"

The bunker doors slid open, revealing the burning city.

Hori took a deep breath, then turned back to his troops. "The Scourge're here, and they want everything we've got to offer!"

The troops stomped once in unison.

"We're the ones who're gonna give 'em our answer!"

_Stomp._

"We're Hydrari! We don't budge for anyone!"

_Stomp._

"No pity!"

_Stomp._

"No remorse!"

_Stomp._

"No fear!"

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"The defensive shielding and the fleet'll hold back the main force, which means it's up to us to mop up whatever gets through! First, we keep our people safe!" Hori jabbed a finger at one soldier. "Sergeant Oma, you and your team are in the air. Any civilians need evac, you catch 'em and bring 'em to the ground."

Oma and her troops stomped once, then ran to their aircraft, its engines blazing to life with a roar.

Hori jabbed another finger at the second commander. "Sergeant Mahora, you an' yours are on foundation duty. Anybody's buried, you're diggin' 'em out and dustin' them off!"

Mahora and his troops stomped once, then marched to the railed transport, its magnets activating to prepare them for the journey.

Hori slammed his bladed mace against his shield, red lighting arcing off with the impact. "The rest a' you, you're with me! Secure the spires, get the people out! And if anythin' with wings gets in yer way, you tear 'em off and see how colorful a smear you can make!"

The remaining troops stomped, then hustled into the bunker. Engineers manned the computers, calculating trajectories while surveying the gashes in the towers.

"Master Sergeant, we've identified at least sixty different points of entry that we could utilize with a minimum risk of structural collapse."

Hori looked out to his troops and shook his head. "Too damn many. Bring it down to fifteen. Rookie!"

The rookie, Private Amako, stepped forward.

Under his faceplate, Hori grinned. "Yer with me. The rest a' you, pair up! For every one a' those spots the engineers find, I want two people in a pod heading towards it! Now move!"

The soldiers scattered, loading themselves into bulky, cramped cockpits down the hall. Hori and Amako found their preassigned location, and Hori strapped himself in. Amako hesitated.

"What'samatter, Rookie? Ever flown in one a' these before?"

"I ju… I just did the simulations, sir."

Hori barked a laugh. "Simulations're great, but there's no substitute for experience." He offered a hand.

Amako took it.

"They're countin' on us out there, Private. They're countin' on _you_. Our people are dying. You can duck out now, but if you do, more will die. Or you can get in this pod, and we'll do what we can. Bring order, save lives, kick ass. You in?"

Amako squeezed Hori's hand. "Sir, yes sir."

Amako strapped himself in, his back to Hori's, and with the press of a few buttons and the flick of a few switches, the cockpit was sealed.

"How're we doin', boys?"

"Reading you loud and clear, Master Sergeant," a voice crackled over the communicator. "Pod is sealed, arc is calculated. Launching… now!"

It was instantaneous. From outside the pod, there was a terrible scream - from the jets or from the wind rushing past, Hori could never tell - and the sensation of movement threw Hori back into his seat. Even without windows, Hori could feel the explosions that rumbled around him as he and Amako hurtled through the sky, and only barely hear the sound of fighter pilots exchanging gunfire.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. With a grinding screech, the pod halted. Hori and Amako unfastened their safety belts and stood.

"Control, how're we lookin'?"

"Clean entry, negligible interference. Charity ball, floor one-sixteen on the Grand Shell Spire."

Hori guffawed. "I always wanted to go to one of these. Let's say 'hi.'"

The pod doors blew off, and Hori and Amako emerged. The crystalline hall was marred by a gaping hole, far too wide for the duo's pod to have created, but just enough for the wrecked warship at the far end of the room. There was more; an overturned banquet table, a smoldering chandelier, an entire staircase to a balcony turned horizontal. And the cacophony of partygoers, all dressed in their finest, believing that their world was ending.

"Everyone _down!_"

Hori's voice boomed out, aided in part by the amplifier in his facemask. All paused, his authority undeniable.

"Everyone who can walk, get to the elevator! Leave those who can't - we'll take care of 'em!"

"The elevators are damaged!" one cried from the back. "We can't call them, and there's already one jammed in the way!"

Hori hefted his mace. "I'll take care of it. Private, get the wounded walking as quick as you can, send 'em to the elevator."

"Sir, yes sir!" Amako stomped once, then quickly got to work.

Hori lumbered into the crowd, the people parting as if they were the Red Sea. He approached the elevator hall, where he beheld a gilded and twisted elevator car roof, clearly not prepared to move anytime soon. The Master Sergeant cracked his neck before bringing his mace down, once, twice, three times, each blow ringing out and sparking with electricity. With the third blow, the car was sent screeching down the shaft.

Hori turned back to the crowd. "Two at a time, five seconds apart. The antigrav generators should be up and runnin' down there, they run on emergency power, and the elevator'll be there for you to land on. When you get there, get out of the building, head for the nearest shelter. Now move it!"

As the first jumpers proceeded to leap down the shaft, Hori heard something over the commotion - gunfire. He rushed past everyone, finding Amako opening fire on a robed, insectoid monstrosity. It chittered, like a nail gun against marble, rushing over one of its fallen brethren in an effort to slash its claws at Amako, only to be put down by the Private's shotgun. More emerged from the warship, each in robes, each with an unspeakable malice in their multifaceted eyes.

Hori bellowed a war cry, charging into combat, mace swinging wildly. The things attempted to find a weak point, but his armor was all but impervious to their blows. Amako advanced, pumping the shotgun with each blast, keeping the creatures from reaching any nearby civilians. The floor was quickly made slick by yellow viscera. Only after the fifth was put down did the situation calm and Hori's hearts stopped beating in his ears.

"Private. Status."

"Five Scourge down. Everyone who can walk is headed towards the elevator. The rest, they need medical attention."

"Check the pod, see if there isn't a medkit in there. I'm gonna see if there ain't more of the bugs."

Hori marched to the warship, mace at the ready. The cockpits and gunner's seats were empty - all five of them. It wasn't physically large enough to be carrying additional crew members, but something was nonetheless leaking yellow blood from the ship. As Hori pried away the shattered metal, he beheld chitinous plating. As he pried that away, he found fleshy tissue underneath. Something inside the ship wasn't bleeding - the ship was bleeding.

With a shuddering gasp, the flesh sagged, releasing a gust of purple mist from its gashes. It was everywhere at once, flooding the whole room until it was coated in fog. Hori was flung backwards, digging his heels in to narrowly avoid being thrown onto his back.

Then the civilians began to move.

To gaze upon the handiwork of a Scourge virus bomb is to be damned, for surely there is no worse Hell than the universe in which it exists. Genetic codes were written, re-written, overwritten, until they fell apart like scrambled eggs. The hardened scales of the Hydrari turned soft, then hardened once more into a chitinous exoskeleton. Clothing burst apart as, from underneath, Hydrari hides stretched and billowed into an organic robe. Limbs stretched, hands turned to claws, and what was no longer necessary was bled away in transcendent beauty.

Safe within his armor, the filters in his facemask working to keep imminent, painful rebirth away, Hori gripped his mace tightly. "Private, get as many people out as possible. I'll do what needs to be done"

There was no question, no stomp, and Amako ran, barking commands at the crowd, the mists and a new life crawling ever closer to them.

Hori worked with a butcher's diligence. The wounded were healing, and quickly, and soon they would be upon him as fully-fledged Scourge. But there was a time for action and a time for mourning, and Hori knew that if he failed to act now, he would be the one his family mourned over.

"Hori?"

_No_, he thought. _No no no._ _Not here. Not now._

"What's… what's happening…"

Familiar shapes limped towards him. Neina. Newea. His wife. His child.

"We… we just wanted to see…"

Neina fell, and Hori caught her. Newea stood by. "You can't be here. You can't."

"We were invited… Hori, please. It hurts…"

Hori shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "You can't be here. You can't be asking me this."

"Hori…" Neina's mouth split apart, transforming into clicking mandibles. "You have to stop me."

Hori let Neina down to the ground gently as she began to convulse. He whispered a small prayer to the First Guard, and brought his mace down.

Hori barely had time to breathe before Newea lunged, her own transformation already at a much more advanced state, knocking him to the ground, claws and other assorted limbs raking at him as he watched behind his impenetrable faceplate.

_She's not your daughter_, Hori thought as he grabbed her head and began to twist.

_She's not your daughter, she's not your daughter, she's not your daughter._

_I'm gonna kill 'em._

_I'm gonna kill 'em _all.


	3. 2 - E45

It was a hideous thing. Its chitinous claws were outstretched like it was Christ upon the cross. Species of all kinds gathered in fear and awe, their inquisitive gazes reflected a dozen times in its multifaceted eyes. It thrashed and writhed on the table, mandibles clicking in an effort to maim the jellyfish-like being that floated before it.

"Knowledgeable: The Scourge of Endymion has been a persistent menace in our galactic community."

The being spoke in even, measured tones as it readied a scalpel.

"Disdainful: Their bio-engineering has produced a series of new terrors, including the now-infamous Scourge Virus. What you see before you was once one of the Tengu of the Golden Order."

With one appendage, the jellyfish slowly drew a scalpel down the insect's robe, just under the armpit. This drew a small stream of bile-like blood.

"Disturbed: Despite its appearance, the standard Scourge does not wear robes. Rather, this is a flexible endothermic shell that allows the Scourge to generate the heat necessary to maintain a stable internal temperature. Wondering: We are unsure as to why the Scourge evolved in this manner. Perhaps it is an adaptation acquired after Endymion was reduced to a tomb world by the Scourge."

The jellyfish dug the scalpel into the "robe," prompting a savage scream of pain and anger from the Scourge as blood dripped from the wound.

"Confident: Despite the advances of the Virus, the Scourge can only create standard drones with it, such as this one. One such weakness the drones possess is a series of nerves in their shells between their abdomens and their arms. Sever the cluster, like so-"

The jellyfish retracted the scalpel before embedding it in a specific spot in the robe, just to the left of the gash they had created. In response, the arm above the wound went limp.

"-and the structure falls apart. The brain, despite its efforts, can no longer send commands to the limb."

The jellyfish took up a mallet. It looked like a meat tenderizer.

"Eager: Despite its vital function, the shell provides little in ways of physical protection. Observe."

The jellyfish slammed the mallet into the Scourge's abdomen, striking the same spot over and over again in rapid succession. The strikes resounded through the lecture hall, gradually becoming punctuated with crunches at first, followed by sickening wetness as more blood was spilled. The Scourge's cries grew softer, more desperate, and its breathing more labored.

"Repeated trauma easily punctures the outer layer, and damage to organs is both inevitable and visibly noticeable."

The jellyfish readied a whirring saw.

"Excited: Speaking of organs, the brain structure of the Scourge is fascinating. Being a hive mind, their brains have five lobes. We will now observe each of them in sequence."

At that time, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. "Autonomous Drone E45, please report to Primary Administration. Autonomous Drone E45, please report to Primary Administration."

The jellyfish seemed to deflate a little. "Disappointed: This will continue another day. Please review the following chapter in your holomotes and ensure you are prepared for the coming lab when you and your teams will be vivisecting Scourge larvae."

The students filtered out, and E45 slashed their saw across the Scourge's throat, letting it bleed out in a final, pathetic display. Following the thirty-second shower that was triggered by the flip of a switch, they made their way through the halls of the university before drifting over the crowds and towards the tower designated as Primary Administration. As they moved, they could feel the presence of their species - thoughts, dreams, desires, all were communal among the Lonay.

Collectively, they wondered what could be so important that they had to be summoned individually.

E45 entered the tower, approaching the front desk. "Anxious: Autonomous Drone E45. I am expected?"

The secretary, a bespeckled avian, checked her records. "Ah, yes, you have a meeting on level -15."

_What could this be? Level -15?_ all local Lonay wondered.

E45 entered the elevator and felt the presence of their fellows slowly fade as it delved deeper and deeper into the ground. They were all still there, but the network, the hive mind, was farther now. There were no other Lonay to be found in this place.

Local memories indicated that the other Lonay scientists were specifically relocated for today.

When the elevator opened, E45 was greeted by an odd figure. He was a blue slug, about four feet in height, being carried aloft by a chair with antigravity devices attached.

"Autonomous Drone E45, I presume?"

"Nervous: Yes, but just E45 will do."

The slug offered a slight smile. "A pleasure. Ektrall Hull, of the Galactic Cnidion Consensus. Float with me."

The pair moved down the stark white hall. E45 recognized this place from another Lonay's memories - this was the university's research division. Experiments of all kinds were being conducted in the rooms. Lightning sparked from generators before liquefying, portals opened and collapsed, terrifying beasts were milked for their venom. Again, E45 noted that among all the scientists present, there were no Lonay.

"First, thank you for joining us today. I understand that the summons are unorthodox, but strange times dictate strange countermeasures."

"Intrigued: The unknown is exciting. As a scientist, my duty is to discover answers."

"A worthwhile philosophy. Such a belief is why you were selected."

"Curious: Selected for what?"

The "feelers" on Hull's head glowed with purple light, and a door slid open in response. "Patience. Your answers will be provided."

The pair entered. It was a simple room, covered in white panels. In the center, there was a table. Hull floated at one end, and E45 floated at the other.

"This is an interview, but the subject requires secrecy, which includes your fellow Lonay. Do I have your consent to temporarily detach you from the network until our conversation is concluded?"

E45 paused. They had remembered the stories, the experiences, of Lonay who were detached from their central nexus, the Lonay Mind. Some were rendered comatose, unable to be roused until the connection was re-established.

"Concerned: I have never been disconnected before, but I will attempt it. Do pardon me if I am rendered inactive."

Hull's feelers glowed with purple light, a light mirrored in the spaces between the room's panels. E45 could feel it taking effect. The Lonay had gone silent. Their thoughts, their lives, that mental background noise that had been with E45 since their birth, had suddenly disappeared.

E45 had become a singular "they."

"I trust this experience is not overly discomforting?"

E45 considered their surroundings. It was unusual, as though some vital part of them had gone missing, but was quickly being replaced by something else: individual thoughts. They were their own, they could not be perfectly replicated, and they did not have to be shared with the rest of the Lonay Organism.

"Excited and Relieved: I am still functioning, although I can no longer sense my fellow Lonay."

"With the Scourge's most recent expansion, the Consensus has been developing new technologies meant to combat gestalt consciousnesses. This is a similar anti-gestalt field, meant to disrupt communications. I believe this should give us sufficient privacy to conduct our conversation without any prying eyes, so to speak."

"Inquisitive: What will we discuss?"

"Projections and field tests indicate that the Scourge of Endymion has developed a new kind of bioweapon. Current estimates are that soon they will be able to produce more specialized forms, including more advanced soldiers and deadlier strains of the Scourge Virus. We - the Consensus and other civilizations - are creating a team of our own specialists to both destroy this bio-weapon and prevent its future replication."

"Curious: Why select me over other Lonay?"

"Your file indicated an extensive history with studying the Scourge - there are few, if any, who could match your knowledge of their biology, their society."

"Confused: It would seem that you have made your choice already."

Hull furrowed his brow. "Not yet. We have additional candidates, potential replacements suggested by the Mind, but you were their first choice."

"Questioning: What is your hesitation?"

"First, we would need you to agree to be a part of this mission. Second…" Hull leaned forward in his chair. "I need to know more about you."

"Informational: I am Autonomous Drone E45, hatched on the Lonay homeworld, Nexys, specialized for biological study, with my most recent focus being-"

"Pardon the interruption, but you misunderstand. Such information is superfluous. I know everything in regards to your specialization, your focus, your career here at the Daragnul University. I need to know more about _you_."

E45, lacking a face, could not look puzzled, but even Hull could tell that the Lonay was genuinely confounded. "I… I don't understand."

"The Lonay Organism is a gestalt consciousness, a hive mind, true, but there are those within that hive mind who are, for lack of a better term, 'unique.' Individuality exists among your people, although it takes on a much different form than that of, say, the Hydrari. I know you're one of these 'unique' individuals, but I need to know what makes you _you_."

Thoughts - private thoughts - raced through E45's mind. Where to even start? Nobody had ever asked such a question of them before. "Shy: When not working, I enjoy painting."

"What do you like to paint?"

"Usually Tengu. Their colorful plumage makes for a finer image."

"How do you feel about the Smogskraw Cartel?"

"Frustrated: Their ability to advance technology is commendable, but their aims are deplorable. I hope someday they realize the harm they've caused the galaxy."

"Are you a spiritualist?"

"Hesitant: The Mind tends towards spiritualism, but my role as a scientist tends to discourage such thinking."

"Your file mentioned fieldwork before you were a teacher - did you enjoy it?"

"Nostalgic: It was exciting, and I was happy to be of assistance. Procuring biological specimens from distant planets and studying them… those are some of my favorite memories that I share among my kin."

"Why do you take to biology with such zeal?"

"Confused: Why wouldn't I? I was specialized by the Mind for it."

"Correct, but there is something else in you. I have seen the footage of you in the vivisection labs, your lectures via hologram, and there is a drive there, I daresay an excitement, that isn't found in other Lonay in your field. It sometimes borders on outright sociopathy. So, why you and not other Lonay?"

E45 was quiet for a long time. When they spoke, they did so slowly, considering each word. "Determined: Because I believe it is the Lonay Organism's purpose. The Organism… it exists to learn about that which is not ourselves. This is what has driven us from our homeworld and into the stars. Some of us wish to know about other societies and how they interact. I desire to understand everything about the biology of the universe. What is it that tells us to go higher, faster, farther? What is it that gives us meaning? I believe the answer lies within ourselves and our own structures, biological, genetic, and so on."

Hull snorted. "And yet you claim to not be a spiritualist."

"Humorous: Haha. I suppose it is a tad contradictory, but this is why I do what I do with such gusto. Thoughtful: I seek answers to questions that have plagued every civilization, every species, since the dawn of time. The Scourge threatens that, and I would not see them tear everything we have built to ruin."

Hull smiled. "That's the kind of dedication we need to see this mission through. Will you join us?"

"Delighted: A chance to study the Scourge? A chance to be in the field again? I would be more than happy to."

"Excellent."

The glow on the walls faded, and the gentle music of the Lonay Organism once again reached E45's mind. The memory of this conversation, though, was theirs and theirs alone.


	4. 3 - Scion

Initial search, thorough. Jaws. Appendage hyphae. Full-body scans. Repeated head scans. Investigate dead eye twice. Insufficient space. Nothing there.

Begin secondary searches. Seek scars: evidence of surgery, internal modification. Not found.

Specialized acid bath. Exposure burns. Painful. Impurities destroyed. Fungal spores destroyed. Spore production: crippled.

No chances. Gills vented. Force-dehydrated. More pain. Acid traces removed.

Digestive samples taken. Diet over last month reviewed. Currently-digesting meals destroyed. Grow hungry.

Outfitted with muzzle. Remember last time.

Given instructions. Do not approach barrier. Do not touch barrier. Do not approach door. Do not touch door. Do not adjust muzzle. Do not struggle against restraints. Consequences severe. Possibly lethal.

Strapped to gurney. Wheeled through prison. Four guards. Four gurney crew. All armored. No firearms. Risk of stealing, injury.

Taken to interview room. Divided by barrier. Desk, chair on other side. Guards leave. Not released from gurney.

Tengu enters other side. Has briefcase. Unrecognized. Unimportant.

"You are Underboss Soghad, correct?"

Question: pointless. "Speak."

"That would make you the current Underboss of the Smogskraw Cartel. Unless, of course, someone has taken your place already."

"Likelihood: impossible. Am Scion."

"Ah, yes, your progenitor is Drostoa, present Smogskraw Underlord. For a dedicated criminal syndicate, you lot certainly do put a lot of emphasis on family."

Statement: pointless. Conversation: less than. "Patience: limited. State business."

"We have a mission for you, Soghad. A very, very special mission."

"Offer?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Eyes roll. "State offer."

"Why, your freedom of course."

Offer: ridiculous. "Freedom: inevitable. Am Scion. Additional tribute required."

"I trust you're referring to the previous six times the Underlord was able to secure your release from prison, legally or otherwise. However, it would seem that number seven is not quite your lucky number today."

"Meaning?"

"We've been in contact with the Underlord - not directly, mind you, he's still too smart for that - but he's made his position quite clear. In exchange for your freedom, you will take part in a particular espionage mission, after which you will be provided a personal starship, ten thousand credits, and sufficient fuel to go anywhere in the galaxy."

Chortle. "Insufficient tribute. Transaction denied."

"Your Underlord did mention that you'd say something like that. He also mentioned to include a particular word: _Giraldae_."

_Extinction_.

No.

Incorrect. Must be. Code broken. Account hacked. Impossible. Am Scion. Impossible.

Stop chortle. "Repeat."

"I said that the Underlord included the word _Giraldae_ in his instructions to get you to cooperate. I don't suppose that means anything to you?"

Bryllyance Epidemic: profitable, sloppy. Captured following continental outbreak, public officials confession.

After-Obliteration Sting: moderate success, excessive chaos. Captured following escape attempt, miscalculated necessary trajectory.

Most recent mission: sabotage Order of the Eternal Night. Target fleet: destroyed. Smogskraw fleet: destroyed. Civilian casualties: indeterminable. Captured following escape pod propulsion failed.

Conclusion: Underlord's support: lost.

Dead eye twitches. Involuntary. Weakness. Situation realized. Am hostage. But not powerless.

"Restate offer."

"In exchange for partaking in one particular operation of our choosing, we will provide you with a personal starship with sufficient fuel to travel anywhere in the galaxy, in addition to ten thousand credits."

"Operation type?"

"Sabotage. The Scourge of Endymion has developed new technologies that threaten the balance of power. You will be a part of a team of specialists, lending your expertise as both a hacker and an engineer. Destroy the device and prevent its future replication by any means necessary."

"Insurance?"

"If you're referring to how we plan on ensuring you don't just cut and run once you're released, we intend to implant a small but powerful explosive device within you. One of your squad - and no, we won't tell you who - will have the detonator, which they can activate manually at any time. Additionally, this person will have a device of their own, albeit of a different function. Should this person… _expire_, your own device will detonate automatically."

Expected. "Terms noted. Counter-offer: increase credits to twenty thousand. Grace period following operation conclusion: seventy-two hours. Will not be tracked or followed. Personally allowed to contact Underlord prior to mission start, detailing terms, conditions."

Tengu leans forward. "Fifteen thousand credits and a grace period of thirty-six hours."

"Nineteen thousand credits. Grace period: sixty hours."

"Seventeen thousand credits, a grace period of forty-eight hours, and your reward ship will be modified to a luxury model."

Smile under muzzle. "Transaction accepted."

Am hostage?

Am Smogskraw.

Am still Scion.


End file.
